


Inked in His Skin

by bewaretheboojum



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: AU, Jason is a tattoo artist, M/M, Makeouts, Tim Drake is Alvin Draper, mentions of gang violence, referenced War Games (DCU), referenced school shooting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 22:15:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19118755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bewaretheboojum/pseuds/bewaretheboojum
Summary: AU - Jason is a tattoo artist just trying to make a living in Gotham City. One night, he gets a visitor asking for some ink.





	Inked in His Skin

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for GlitterCorrupts. Hope you like <3
> 
> Thanks to Nykyrianne for the beta help!

The murder scene was fairly gruesome. There was so much blood and gore splattered across walls, the carpet in the hotel room was soaked through. If it wasn't for the dead man's DNA and distinctive tattoos, Tim wasn't entirely sure the police would have been able to identify the body.

Fortunately the DNA was enough to lead the police to a name. 

The victim was a mid-level enforcer with the LaBoys gang out in West Gotham. Their numbers had dwindled after the Quake, but there was a recent resurgence in their ranks. Some younger members had started recruiting in high schools in Gotham’s more economically disadvantaged neighborhoods. As it turned out, it was an excellent recruiting tactic. 

The victim was young, early twenties, but he clearly made enemies fast. He must have made someone high up in the Demon Boyz very angry because his murder wasn't the typical Gotham City gangland hit. 

Even for a gang murder, and even for Gotham City, this was brutal.

Tim understood how the gangs in Gotham worked. He had been interacting with them on some level for almost his entire life. He knew that when things got this brutal, the violence was met with just as much, if not more, from the other side.

Acts like this murder lead to escalation: revenge killings, drive-bys, arson and bombings, and then, eventually gang wars. As the violence got worse, less controlled, less directed, the city became more dangerous for everyone, not just the gangs involved. As the body count went up, consideration for the lives of those not involved went down.

Tim remembered his time at Louis Grieves High. He remembered the gang war that happened the summer of his last year there. He remembered the violence they brought to his school, to his neighborhood.

To his friends...

Tim remembered giving Darla Aquista CPR as she bled out on the hot sidewalk of Gotham City. He remembered his hands slipping as he worked because there was so much blood from the bullet wound that ripped through her side. He remembered hearing sirens in the distance. He remembered the EMTs that didn't come until far too late. He remembered that they had to pull him off her when they came because he knew when they finally made him stop they would tell him she was dead. He remembered feeling like her blood would never really wash off his skin. He remembered the nightmares and the guilt that followed him for months after her death.

Tim wasn't going to let something like that happen again. This type of violence needed to be addressed as quickly as possible to avoid a devolution into toxic brutality and careless murder.

The murder happened in an area of Gotham that had long since given up on even the most basic security measures. There were only about three cameras in the whole five block radius around the crime scene. 

Tim hacked into the feeds of all the cameras and reviewed the tape from the days around the murder. It took him a few hours to scroll through the videos but finally he found about 10 seconds of film around the time the killing took place according to the Coroner's Report.

The footage was of a tall white man. He was walking briskly away from the hotel where the body was found. He was wearing a baseball cap that cast shadows over the top half of his face, jeans, a tank top, and large, heavy boots on his feet. A thick, almost bushy, beard obscured most of the bottom half of his face. 

The jeans the man was wearing were ripped, with stains down one leg that looked like it could be blood spatter. His shirt was sticking thickly to the skin of his chest, as if it was wet. The man’s arms were bare but were covered thickly in a sleeve of tattoos.

As much as Tim zoomed and adjusted angles, he just couldn't get a clear shot of the man’s features. Certainly no shots that would be a high enough quality to run through any databases. 

Between the beard and the hat, Tim's sophisticated facial recognition software wasn't going to be of any help here. It looked like Tim was going to need to do some old fashioned sleuthing. 

Tim took some screen caps of the man's tattoo sleeves and neck work. He cropped a few of the images and printed them out, tucking the pictures into the back pocket of his jeans.

Then Tim pulled up Gotham-centric message boards and review sites, settling in to research tattoo artists that specialized in intricate full sleeve tattoos and didn’t seem to mind doing work for gang members.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

The soothing familiarity of the dull buzz from the tattoo gun in Jason’s hand had lulled him into an almost meditative state as he worked on inking the thin, intricate lines of a sailing ship on the expanse of skin in front of him. The image he had been given to work off was an intricate ghost ship with ragged sails, the eerie shapes of long dead pirates tending the tattered rigging. Getting just the right tone of ethereal and creepy was a particular challenge Jason enjoyed and everything else faded into the background as he concentrated deeply on the sweep of a sail or a rotted stump of a peg leg-- 

"BAM!”

Jason almost jumped when the man he was tattooing shouted abruptly. He had been speaking while Jason was working, but Jason hadn’t really been paying attention to anything he said.

“I capped that motherfucker. Right in the leg," the man continued when Jason looked up at him. "He never saw it coming."

Jason made a non-committal noise as he continued to ink the man's left shoulder. Working in some extra detail on one of the pirate’s tri cornered hats, Jason tried to focus more on the art and less on where the man was getting the money to pay him. Jason figured the more money he paid for the tattoo, the less money he was spending on guns… 

Technically, Jason was doing Gotham a solid. 

Jason had been doing tattoo work independently for a little more than three years now. He had gained a reputation-- first with the working girls, then with their pimps, then with the gangs-- as a man who could do good work and keep his mouth shut.

The word of mouth advertising worked well, Jason appreciated every referral he got. Gotham’s underworld was a small and incestuous place and word of Jason’s talent got around quickly. 

Jason had worked hard over the past few years to make his tattoo shop a sort of neutral territory. The gangs would come, they would go, then another gang would come after. No turf wars, no battles for territory. Just a couple of guys, looking to get some ink from a guy who knew his shit and knew to keep his mouth shut.

Jason had been doing tattoo work since he was about 15. He lied about his age, got an apprenticeship with one of the best artists in The Narrows and in just another year or so, he was making enough money that he could pay his own bills and help his mom out with hers.

Jason helped her get an apartment in a nicer part of town. Now she did yoga and had a small dog she took to the dog park on the weekends. They got breakfast together every Sunday and seeing her safe and happy felt good. It was nice to know that her biggest worry these days was whether she not she needed to repot her houseplants.

Jason, on the other hand, stayed on his home turf. He never got involved in the gang politics, but everyone respected his role in the community as an artist and left him well enough alone.

The only time things got dicey was when an all out turf war erupted. Then, no one was really safe. The last gang war, the idiot motherfuckers had shot up a high school and the clinic downtown. Jason didn't want to think what would happen to his place if an all out war happened again.

The man in Jason’s tattoo chair rambled on about the people he shot (probably less than he said), the girls he fucked (certainly less than he said), and the girls who wanted to fuck him (undoubtedly a number closer to zero). Jason let him talk, focusing on ink and skin. He had a few more hours of work to do on the guy’s sleeve and the last thing Jason needed was to open his damn mouth and piss the guy off before his big payout came through.

Jason worked later than he intended to that night. He wanted to get this piece done in as few sessions as he could manage. Dealing with this idiot's small talk was getting to be a little much. Finishing up the last section he intended to work on that night, Jason took payment from the man (in cash) and then chased him out of his shop.

Jason was cleaning up for the night when he heard the bell on his door chime as someone walked into the shop.

"We're closed!" Jason called, not looking up from the floor he was sweeping.

"Yeah, it said. Sorry to stop by so late, but I’m looking for a tattoo artist and just wanted check this place out quick. Maybe talk with an artist briefly..."

Jason looked up from his sweeping and saw a young white guy standing just by his shop door. The guy was obviously a couple of years younger than Jason. He was small, a little too thin. He wasn't wearing any clear gang colors and he didn't have an ink indicating allegiance. His jeans looked expensive but his deep red hoodie looked well worn, with a few holes here and there.

Not Jason’s usual clientele.

"So long as your questions don't take more than ten minutes. I'm hungry and I need to scoop the take out I ordered."

Jason hadn't ordered any food, but he wanted an excuse to kick the kid out if things got weird. He wasn’t sure what the kid wanted, maybe drugs for a frat party or something. 

Though, the guy seemed comfortable, at ease, even in Jason's neighborhood, he still looked a little out of place.

"No worries. Shouldn't take that long," the guy said, reaching into his back pocket for a piece of paper. "I heard that this parlor has a reputation for being really good and these big, elaborate tattoos. Like full sleeves and chest pieces."

Jason looked the kid up and down a little pointedly.

"You're looking for some ink?" Jason asked, skeptically.

"I'm thinking about it," the guy said with a casual smoothness that made it clear he was an excellent liar. "I was hoping you could look at an example of what I want, to see if you can replicate it for me."

Jason shrugged.

"Sure but full body pieces are expensive," Jason said. "And they take time."

"I can afford it," the guy said smoothly. 

“Usually people start off slow,” Jason said, looking the guy over. “Get one or two smaller pieces before moving into something. And you just want to jump right in, kid?”

“Please, call me Al.” the kid cut in. “You sound like my little league coach when you call me ‘kid’...”

“Your little league--” Jason started in defensively but the kid cut him off.

“You’re Jason, right? That’s what the website said.”

“Jay’s fine. You looked me up?”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo for a while. I’ve been looking into a few tattoo places, trying to decide who I want to work with. Can I show what I was thinking about?”

“Sure.”

'Al' looked up at Jason with a friendly smile as he fished a picture out of his back pocket. He unfolded and held it out to Jason.

"Do you do anything like that? Or do you maybe know who can?" the guy asked.

Jason tentatively took the picture from the kid's hand. It was a little grainy and cropped in ways that made Jason wonder what else was in the picture.

“Where did you get the picture of the ink?” Jason asked, trying to sound casual, wondering how the kid would respond.

“I’m interested in photography,” Al put in smoothly. “I’ve been taking pictures and developing my own film since I was a kid. Sometimes I just people watch in Gotham and when I saw him and his tattoos--” 

Al finished his explanation with a casual shrug. 

Trying hard to keep his face neutral, Jason examined the picture as best he could. The kid’s answer was smooth enough to be something close to the truth, but Jason knew for sure this had to be a still some surveillance film. The tattoos weren't super clear from his picture, but the coloring was distinctive. Jason did recognize the ink. 

He had done it, after all.

The man in the picture was a gang member that had paid Jason well for a large piece spanning his back, arms, ass and thighs. The thing was an array of gears, hasps, motor parts and belts. Jason had worked with colors and shapes that were new and challenging for the project, so it stuck out to him.

Jason had enjoyed working on the piece, he just hadn’t enjoyed working on the man. 

The guy was an enforcer for LaBoys. He had a reputation for being rough, violent and deadly. Jason had only taken him on as a client because he didn't want to piss off the other guys in LaBoys he was inking at the time. It had turned into a lucrative project, but Jason had never looked forward to the sessions. Too much talk of violence and brutality from this guy. And, unlike the guy he had been working on earlier, Jason knew this man with LaBoys never had to lie about what he did.

Jason was actually close to finishing the piece for the guy. He had one section of the man's back thigh to finish before the piece was totally done.

Jason looked over at the kid, who was watching the expressions on Jason's face with an a casual expression that belayed the intensity in the kid's eyes.

Taking an extra few seconds to look at the guy a little more closely, Jason saw that, while the kid was thin, but moved with a fluidity of an athlete. His hands were scarred and his knuckles were thick and knobby in the way that indicated the guy had them broken and dislocated a couple of times. There was a thin scar that bit slightly into the kid's left eyebrow. There was also a bruise just under the kid's ear that was mostly hidden by the dark, loose curls of hair that hung thickly around his neck.

The guy was too young and too roughed up to be a cop. And anyway, any self respecting member of the GCPD would have just banged down his door and dragged him to the station for answers. They wouldn't have entered politely, told lies and asked seemingly innocent questions.

So Al was clearly either a member of a rival gang, looking for intel on the LaBoys enforcer, or he was working with some PI or other. He was obviously looking for a way to locate this guy and thought the distinctive tattoos were his best bet.

Jason gave Al a long, considering look. If a guy this small and this young went after anyone in LaBoys… 

The kid was cute and smart. Too cute and too smart to get murdered. Jason didn’t get where he was by trying to talk gang members out of the life, but this kid…

Al could do better.

"Yeah, I'm familiar with the type of work here," Jason said, casually. "I actually did this piece."

"You did?" Al asked, sounding a little surprised, though Jason guessed he knew that already.

"Yeah, I've been working on this guy for about two years now. Almost done with the piece."

"It looks done to me," Al said, peering back down at the picture on the page.

"I mean, it goes all the way down," Jason said.

"All the way--" Al started and then broke off as he realized what Jason said. "Jeez. Doesn't that hurt?"

Jason grinned at him. Yeah, the guy was too cute.

"A needle in the ass? Yeah, I hear isn't not great," Jason said, tossing the picture on the counter and trying to hold back a laugh.

"You don't know it's not great?" Al asked, clearly speaking before thinking about what he was saying, then he flushed deeply.

He was actually even cuter when he blushed. Jason hadn’t encountered many gang members who could still blush...

"My ink stops at the waistline," Jason said, smiling at him.

"Yours is very nice," Al said, jutting his chin toward Jason's arms.

"Yeah, a friend of mine did them for me," Jason said, holding out his arms so that Al could see his sleeves to full effect.

Al looked them over admiringly.

Jason's sleeves were a forest scene, intricate leaves and branches with bright, colorful birds woven into the trees. Each bird represented an important person in Jason's life. One was for is mother. Another for his first serious girlfriend. Another for the guy who taught him how to ink.

There were also snakes. One snake for each person who had hurt him. The man who had beaten his mother nearly to death. The one who robbed Jason at gunpoint a few years back. The gang member who had torched his apartment building a few years back to retaliate against a dude who didn’t even live there anymore...

Jason loved each part of the tattoo. It reminded him of the good and the bad in his life. It reminded him to be grateful.

Pulling his t-shirt up over his head, Jason tossed it to one side. He lifted his arms over his head to show Al the rest of the tattoo, inked across his chest and back.

Al let out a low appreciative tone in the back of his throat.

"That's beautiful," Al said, his eyes skating over the different sections of ink, lingering on the birds and the snakes.

Jason felt a low warmth grow in the pit of his stomach at the sight of Al’s apprective expression as he took in Jason’s ink. Al was attractive, graceful, pale and with inquisitive blue eyes that made Jason feel like he could see right through all of Jason’s tricks. It made Jason feel…

Too many things, really.

"How long did it take to get done?" Al asked, stepping in to get a closer look at Jason's tattoos. "Did it hurt?"

"It took a couple of years, all told. And sometimes I'll add small pieces to it. A bird or a snake depending. It hurt a little, but it isn't so bad. After two or three beers you barely feel it."

Al nodded, looking thoughtful.

"These took that long too?" Al asked, nodded toward the picture Jason was still holding.

"Mmm, yeah. I guess I've been working on this guy for about two years now. Were you thinking of gear work too, or..."

"I-- Yeah, I mean sort of..." Al began, hesitantly.

If Jason hadn't suspected the kid was not here for some ink before, now it was absolutely confirmed. Most people, especially people looking into sleeves, spent months, even years, thinking about what they wanted.

"I think that would be a shame," Jason said.

"A shame?" Al asked, looking up at Jason with confusion in his eyes.

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to put gears on that pretty skin," Jason said, reaching out a hand to brush a finger lightly against the skin of Al's cheek. “That’s too harsh, too... clinical for a guy like you.”

"What would you do?" Al asked, his focus clearly shifting from the picture in Jason's hand to Jason himself. “For a guy like me, I mean.”

"Hmmmm," Jason said, thoughtfully. He looked Tim pointedly, up and down. "You like photography, right?"

"I-- yes. I do," Al said, hesitantly.

"I'd do camera film," Jason said, reaching out a hand to gently grasp Al's arm by the wrist. "A roll of film, unfurled and wrapping around your arms. Binding you to your art."

Jason lifted Al's arm out from his side, he ran his fingers in a spiral from Al's wrist to his shoulder. Jason stepped around Al's body so he was facing Al's back. Tracing his fingers across the sensitive flesh between Al's shoulder blades, Jason sketched out a pattern with his fingers.

"Then, here, a camera," Jason husked and felt Al shiver at the feel of his touch.

"That sounds nice," Al said, his voice low and hesitant.

Jason traced a circle at the center of Al's back, tracing his fingers over the bony knobs of Al's spine.

"And the front lens... What would that be reflecting back?"

“Reflecting back?”

“Yeah, what would you be taking pictures of?” Jason asked, voice low and smooth.

"I-- uh... I don't know," Al answered, his voice hesitant and unsure.

"I think you do," Jason husked, stepping in close behind Al.

Al's body was warm, so close to Jason's. He smelled like soap and engine oil and something else Jason couldn't quite identify. 

Jason wanted to convince himself that he had started this, the touching and the flirting, to see what it would take to scare the guy off. But Jason’s couldn’t lie to himself. He liked the look of Al and wanted to get his hands on the smooth expanse of his delicate skin...

"I think you know exactly what you would have in your viewfinder," Jason whispered into Al's ear.

Al shivered then, and pressed his body back against Jason's, almost instinctively.

Jason felt that was enough of an invitation for him. He leaned in and nipped at the shell of Al's ear.

He felt Al inhale and Jason wrapped his arms around Al from behind.

"I thought-- I thought you had food. Ordered," Al stuttered.

"You knew I was lying," Jason said, nuzzling at Al's ear. "There is no food."

"I--" Al started and then broke off as Jason started kissing a path down his neck.

"Maybe here," Jason said, pausing to outline a part of Al's neck lightly with his tongue. "Here we could add something else. Maybe a Polaroid."

Al shivered at the feel of Jason's mouth and his breathing picked up in pace.

"What do you think? Just a little picture here, just starting to develop. Still a hazy blur of potential, undefined beauty," Jason suggested.

"I think-- That sounds--" Al's breath caught in his throat as he spoke. "I like that."

"The tattoo?" Jason asked. "Or this?"

Jason sucked a kiss to Al's neck and Al arched his back in response, reaching behind him to wrap a hand around the back of Jason's neck. His hands were stronger than Jason expected, pressing firmly against the base of Jason's skull and encouraging him to kiss lower and lower.

Jason ran his hands down Al's back before skating them up under his shirt to play his fingers over the warm skin of Al's stomach. Jason traced thick groups of muscles and knotted scars with the pads of his fingers as he ran his hands over Al's stomach and sides. Jason felt Al's muscles tense as Jason's fingers slide over his skin. Pressing a series of kisses across Al's shoulders, he kissed and licked up the nape of Al's slender neck. Tongue playing at the soft, fine hairs at the edge of Al’s hairline, Jason felt him shiver.

Jason turned Al gently in his arms, so they were facing each other again.

Al's pupils were blown and his bright blue eyes looked hazy with desire. Jason reached out a hand to cup Al's chin and pull him into a kiss.

He was almost surprised when Al kissed him back. Jason didn't know what he had been expecting.  
Al's mouth felt softer than it looked, his lips were warm. His tongue was hesitant when he moved it to gently press against Jason's. He tasted sweet and minty, like spearmint candy.

The kiss was better than Jason expected. The guy had some level of skill, Jason had to give him credit for that. The feel of Al's lips, his tongue, cool, hard hands skating up Jason's back made him shiver.

Jason broke the kiss and reveled momentarily in the feel of Al panting slightly against his mouth.

"Ohhh beautiful, you kiss so sweetly for a guy I know is going to go off and shoot someone later," Jason whispered against his lips in a light, teasing tone.

"What?" Al said, looking at Jason with an expression in confused blue eyes that Jason almost bought.

"Wow, that's good," Jason husked. "Which of the gangs are you with, anyway? Or is it a PI? I know you’re just here for intel not tats."

Al's expression went hooded for a brief second before slipping back into that perfect look of confusion.

"I don't know what you mean," Al said, making to pull back away from Jason.

"No, no," Jason husked. "Don't go. Forget I said anything. You're not in a gang. You’re not working with a PI. You’re just here for a tattoo."

"I’m not in a gang." Al said, watching Jason carefully behind his mask of confusion and annoyance. "But I should go. Maybe coming here was a bad idea."

"No, no, no," Jason said. "It wasn't a bad idea at all. I promise."

Jason pulled Al back in close and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Forget I said. Just come back here to me."

It didn't take much coaxing to get Al to kiss him again. That warm, soft, minty mouth melted against Jason's as he took it into another kiss and another and another. Al twined his arms around Jason's neck as his kisses grew hotter, more confident. Jason's wasn't at all surprised when Al took control of the kiss, titling Jason's head so he could press a wickedly hot tongue into Jason's mouth.

Jason groaned into the kiss, feeling himself harden. He gripped Al's hips and pulled him in closer, pressing his erection into the warm, hard muscle of Al's abdomen. 

"You feel so good," Jason slurred into his mouth and Al broke the kiss and went still.

"I--" Al said, before breaking off and shaking his head.

"You?" Jason husked against his mouth. "I'm hoping what you were about to say was that you want to come into my back room with me and I can show you all my tattoos."

"You said you didn't have any on your butt," Al said, his eyes narrowing in accusation.

"I have some very pretty ones on my hip and thighs, though," Jason said, trying to sound as enticing as possible.

Al's eyes went heavy lidded and dark as he moved back just enough to look down the length of Jason's body.

"I--" Al said, then shook himself like a dog and took a step back away from Jason. "I really can't. I have to-- I have to go..."

Jason couldn't say he was entirely surprised by that reaction. He took a step back too and sighed.

"It's a shame, I could have shown you exactly where I thought pieces of your pretty little tattoo could go," Jason husked.

Al gave him a wry smile and shook his head again.

"Maybe... Maybe next time."

"Yeah," Jason said. "Next time."

Al grabbed his picture off the counter and made for the door as Jason grabbed his broom again.

"Wednesday at 11 pm," Jason called over his shoulder to Al.

"What?" Al asked, turning briefly to look at Jason.

"His name is Vulture. He'll be at my place late Wednesday night to get that piece finished," Jason said. "It's a lot of work and I'll want to touch some old parts, so come by Wednesday at 11."

"I'll--" Al started then hesitated before finishing his sentence. "I'll think about it."

Jason shook his head and finished cleaning up his shop for the night.

The week flew by, Jason had more work than he could really keep up with, but he still found his mind wandering back to Al and that kiss and Vulture.

When Wednesday night rolled around, Vulture showed up just on time. The guy was obviously high and flush with cash because he paid Jason in advance along with a large tip. It took Jason a few hours to finish up the piece, watching the time tick by on the clock as he worked.

Eight to nine...

Nine to ten...

Ten to eleven...

Just before eleven rolled around, Jason called it quits. Telling Vulture he was all set and to keep Jason in mind for any future work, Jason ushered him out the door.

Jason stood at the large plate glass window of his shop, watching Vulture walk down the deserted Gotham City street, the lamp light casting him mostly in shadow. Jason was surprised when he didn’t hear the sound of gunfire and a speeding car as Al’s gang took Vulture down in a spectacular display of unnecessary violence.

Jason felt a strange mix of disappointment and relief when Vulture left unharmed that night. He kept his ear to the ground over the next few days to see if he heard anything about the man being taken out, but didn’t hear a word.

It was about three weeks later when Jason woke in the middle of the night, knowing someone was in his bedroom.

Moving as quickly as he could, Jason reached for the hunting knife he kept at his bedside table, only to find that it was missing. Sitting up in bed and kicking off the covers, Jason looked frantically around the room, trying to find the person he knew was there.

"I put your knife in a drawer," a soft, low voice said from one corner of Jason's room. "I didn't want you to stab me when you woke up."

The voice was familiar but it took Jason’s sleep addled brain a few long moments to place it. The voice sounded like Al, it was a touch deeper and gruffer, but it had the same Gotham City accent and light cadence Jason remembered.

Jason moved his hand quickly to flick on the light in his bedroom.

"Jesus fuck, you’re--"

“Not a gang member,” Al finished for him, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

While this was still the same dark haired, slender, pale man he had been when he visited Jason's parlor a few weeks before, now he looked far more intimidating and menacing.

Somehow, he looked taller than he had when Jason first saw him. His dark hair was spiked aggressively and a sharp dark black domino mask covered his brilliant blue eyes. He was wearing a uniform that was almost all black with a few dark grey and burgundy highlights. There was a deep, dark burgundy symbol on his chest that looked like the head of a bird with a viciously crooked beak. A dark grey bandolier was draped over one of his shoulders and a belt slung low on his waist with bulging pockets. His boots had a thick, black tread and laced up to his knee.

Jason had to give the guy some credit, he looked almost nothing like the Al that had home walking through his door. He also sure as shit didn’t look like a gang member.

The thing about gang members was they did have a set of rules they lived by. While those rules changed from gang to gang and shifted when things went bad, Jason generally understood what he needed to do to stay off their shit list.

Capes on the other hand...

Jason never really understood the rules the capes lived by. No one did. 

"I just wanted to tell you that we took Vulture in tonight," Al continued, his face slipping back into a serious expression that Jason didn’t like nearly as much as he liked the guy’s soft smiles.

"Tonight? Why the fuck did you wait so long--" Jason spluttered, flicking on the light in his room and squinting over at the corner where Al's voice was coming from.

 

"I didn't want the take down to be tied to his most recent visit to your establishment," Al said, walking over to Jason's bed and standing over him. "I was worried you might get pulled into something dangerous if anyone found out you fed me information."

"I appreciate the thought," Jason said, tilting his head to one side consideringly. "Especially since I had no idea I was narcing to some capes. But believe me, Vulture was crazy enough that no one was going to ask questions when he disappeared. Too many people wanted that idiot dead or in jail. I would not have been anyone's first thought."

"Hmmmm," Al hummed thoughtfully. "That's good to know."

"What's your name? I mean, I'm guessing you don't go by Al when you're dressed like that," Jason said. "Actually, I'm guessing you don't go really go by Al at all."

"Sometimes I do," Al said, in a voice that was lighter than it had been. "When I need to. But no, not when I'm in this uniform. When I'm in this uniform they call me Rook."

"I heard of you. You broke up one of Penguin’s gangs a few years back," Jason said. "They said you essentially burned their HQ to the ground. Lots of pissed off dudes with burned up drugs."

"Forgive me for not sounding sorry about that..." Rook said, twisting those pretty lips into a wry grimace.

"I don't blame you. That shit was laced with poison. People just kept dying that summer," Jason said, shaking his head as he thought back to it. “I lost a lot of friends and a lot of clients.” 

"Same here," Rook said solemnly. “It was bad couple of months."

Jason reached out a hand tentatively, as the impulse to feel the texture of Rook's body armor overtook him. Rook caught his hand with a gloved fist before Jason's fingers made contact.

"My suit is still armed," Rook said softly, squeezing Jason's wrist gently before releasing it.

"Armed?"

"There's a taser embedded in it. Just in case someone tries to grab me or tear it off."

Jason looked up at Rook and raised a suggestive eyebrow.

"Who tries to take your suit off, Rook?" Jason asked, trying to make his voice sound teasing and provocative.

"More people than you'd think," Rook said, wryly.

"Mmmmm, I don't know," Jason said. "I can think of a lot of people who would want to try. Me, for example..."

Rook breathed out a soft laugh and shook his head.

Rook's smile looked incongruous with his face half covered by the sharp angles of his domino ask.

"I--" Rook started and then tried again. "Still a bad idea."

"I like bad ideas. And given your chosen nocturnal activities, I'm guessing you like bad ideas too."

"I don’t consider my nocturnal activities a bad idea..." Rook replied evenly.

"I’m not an idiot. I know you didn’t have to come here. You could have called me, texted me, sent me an email, sent a dozen roses with a little note," Jason joked.

Rook frowned and shook his head.

"The paper trail--" Rook started and Jason cut him off.

"It didn't have to be now. It didn't have to be my bedroom. You also didn't actually have to tell me at all. I'm sure I'll hear about it through the grapevine tomorrow."

Jason could tell by the crinkle at the corner of the domino that Rook was narrowing his eyes.

"You're very familiar with all the gangs around here, aren't you?" Rook asked.

Jason shrugged.

"I mean, I sit with a lot of them for hours at a time while I do their ink. I hear things."

"What if I wanted to hear those things too. Preferably from you. Preferably often," Rook said.

"So you do want a tattoo after all?" Jason teased.

Rook crooked a smile at him.

"Not-- Just yet. Let's say we talk outside of tattoo related capacities."

"And I would just tell you what's going on with all the gangs?" Jason asked.

"Yes."

"And what would I get out of this deal aside from a lot of paying customers in prison?"

"I think you told me about Vulture because you were worried about what he might do to your neighborhood if he kept running around unchecked. I think you told me because you want your neighborhood to be a little safer. I think you told me because you do have a keen sense of what's right and what's wrong."

"Or maybe I told you because I was bored and he was gonna have paid me by the time you found him, anyway."

"Doubtful," Rook said with a level of confidence Jason didn't like.

"I can't have a cape showing up at my shop or in my bedroom. That's not gonna fly."

"I get it," Rook said. "There are other ways."

"Such as?" Jason asked, skeptically.

Rook dug into one of the pockets at his belt and pulled out a small black device. He switched it on before tossing it on Jason's bed between his legs. 

"A cell phone?" Jason asked, picking it up.

"You can only use it to text, not to call. I would also suggest hiding it in your house and not carrying it with you," Rook said.

"Hey, I didn't agree to this," Jason protested.

Rook gave him another knowing look that actually pissed Jason off more than he thought it would.

"How much of this is about you actually wanting my help and how much is about you wanting to keep me on the hook so you always have easy access to my sweet, sweet cock?" Jason asked casually, focused more on the device than Rook.

Jason's concentration was on figuring out how the contraption worked, so he was startled when he felt Rook move in gracefully towards where Jason sat on his bed. Two black gloved hands gripped the headboard on either side of Jason's head and Rook slid his face in close to Jason's.

"Guess we'll find out," Rook husked, before moving in for a swift, hard kiss.

He didn't taste like peppermint this time and he didn't smell like soap. He tasted like coffee and he smelled like sweat and body armor and his mouth moved faster, more confidently than it had the first time Jason's had kissed him.

Jason felt his cock swell and a thick buzz of arousal flow through him at the wicked, aggressive kiss.

"Jesus," Jason slurred when Rook broke the kiss.

Jason opened his eyes to see Rook getting gracefully back to his feet.

"Check it at least once a day," Rook said in a commanding sort of voice that made Jason need to fight back a shiver. "In case I need you."

And then he was gone.

Jason shook his head, staring in the direction of the window Rook had just slipped out for several long, contemplative moments. 

Picking up the device that Rook had given him, Jason fiddled with it. It was small and black, a little shorter than a cell phone with a screen at the top with a read out and a keyboard below. It was simple and unremarkable. 

Jason wondered idly if there was a listening device inside, some type of bug or camera that could record what Jason did in his room.

Rook was apparently a very capable person who was more than happy to put the criminal element in jail. Jason was also a very capable person who sometimes did things that were not entirely legal. He couldn’t help but believe that Rook had looked into him before walking through his window and handing him a communication device.

Rook had to know that Jason wasn’t always above board. Sometimes Jason fudged his books so he didn’t have pay as much in taxes, sometimes he smoked a little weed, sometimes he drove faster than he should and his motorcycle wasn’t exactly street legal…

But then Rook dressed up in scary body armor and broke into other people’s houses. Rook kicked the shit out of people for intel. Rook hacked into security feeds and surveilled people without warrants. Rook worked with Batman…

So Rook wasn’t exactly a bastion of living life above board.

Jason was back to wishing he knew the rules these capes played by. Where was line in the sand? And what did Jason need to do to keep from crossing that line himself? 

Getting out of his bed, Jason walked into his kitchen and pulled out some air tight Tupperware. On his way back to his bedroom, he snagged a few extra hand towels from his hall closet. He made his way back to bed and tucked the towels into the Tupperware, building a makeshift sound dampening container for the device.

Jason paused before putting it in the container. Turning the device over and over in his hands, Jason couldn’t help but wonder what the hell he had gotten himself into. Stuffing the device into his makeshift sound dampener, Jason shoved it in a drawer in his bedside table. 

Turning out his light, Jason climbed back into bed. He tried to convince himself that someone who kissed him the way Rook had probably wasn’t interested in throwing him in jail. 

Jason struggled to coax himself back to sleep. When he finally did fall back asleep he dreamed of inking the outline of that sharp black domino on the pale, delicate skin around Rook’s gorgeous blue eyes.


End file.
